Hands
by Typhlogirl
Summary: Neuro's gotten his hand sliced off again, and he needs Yako to help him heal it. One-shot, NeuroxYako.


This mystery, Yako decided, was definitely in the running for the worst she had the misfortune to be involved in.

The source of the mystery, a businessman who bombed universities after being thrown out of his engineering course, had denoted one such bomb inside the house where she and Neuro had cornered him, killing himself before Neuro had a chance to properly devour his mystery and bringing down a wave of rubble and debris onto the pair of detectives.

Neuro had activated one of his 777 tools to protect them from the bulk of the blast (Yako couldn't tell which one; the dust had momentarily blinded her), but somehow, either due to sheer chance or a moment of clumsiness on his part, he had cancelled the shield too quickly and had been struck with a bit of flying shrapnel, which had neatly severed his right arm at the elbow. The demon hadn't seem overly bothered; he merely stared at his stump of an appendage with a mixture of annoyance and amusement, snatched up the fallen half and flung it at her, somehow managing to strike her right in the face.

"Carry this for me, slave." he commanded, before grabbing her head with his good arm and dragging her forcefully out of the wreckage of the building, right before the police showed up, sirens blazing. As they rounded the corner Yako caught a glimpse of Sasazuka emerging from his car, the bumbling Ishigaki trailing him like a loyal dog.

Yako was dusty, tired and, worst of all, starving, but she was fairly sure she knew what was in store for her that night. She was just fortunate that her mother was visiting a sick friend, and wouldn't ask uncomfortable questions when she returned home the next morning still in her school uniform, covered with dust and god only knew what else.

As expected, as soon as the pair arrived back at the Katsuragi Yako Detective agency, Neuro had settled himself on the sofa and beckoned her over. Miserably, Yako complied, clutching his severed lower arm with a mixture of bitter resignation and utter sorrow for her screaming stomach.

Oddly enough, Neuro didn't choose to lie down like last time; instead, he sat upright, and pulled her down to sit beside him.

"You know what to do, maggot." he said cheerfully, and promptly closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Ignoring the temptation to take a permanent marker to his smug face, Yako connected the two pieces of the demon's arm, one hand on his elbow and the other supporting his limp right hand. She sighed, and made herself as comfortable as possible, mildly noting their unusually close proximity but deciding not to dwell on it.

The hours ticked by and night fell. Yako, already exhausted by having nearly been blown to bits, struggled to keep her eyes open. Her body was screaming for sleep, even louder than it screamed for food, which for her was saying something. All in all, she was pretty miserable. But she feared Neuro's retribution should he awaken to find her having dozed off in the middle of his recovery session, and the last thing she wanted was to give him another excuse to abuse her. However, it was becoming harder and harder to stop her head drooping from fatigue.

'_Consequences be damned,' _she thought. _'I need to sleep.'_ The schoolgirl knew she was acting illogically, but it would be easier to deal with Neuro's torture after a few hours of slumber. She'd probably (hopefully) wake up before him, anyway.

Suppressing what would have been an extremely loud yawn, Yako let her head droop, not caring about the direction in which it fell, and closed her eyes.

The morning after the bomb blast, Sasazuka travelled to the detective agency, in order to deliver a report Yako had requested about the dead businessman. Considering the fact that the case was closed, it felt somewhat redundant, but he had time to kill before work and it felt far too early in the morning to deal with Usui's voice and Ishigaki's eccentricities. She could probably find somewhere to file it, anyway.

He found a good parking space and made his way up the stairs to the agency. It only occurred to him then that the detective and her assistant probably weren't there yet, but he didn't really care; he could just slide the paperwork under the door, after all.

When he reached the landing, the police officer gave the door handle a half hearted turn, expecting to feel the resistance of a lock. When it opened willing, he raised an eyebrow in surprise, and entered the office.

It took Sasazuka a few seconds to fully comprehend the scene before him.

Yako and her assistant were sitting beside one another on the couch, fast asleep. The detective had her head resting against her assistant's shoulder, while his head lay on top of hers, his odd two-toned hair brushing against her face. Yako was holding his elbow with one hand, but the police officer couldn't see her other; it was being held within the gloved hand of her assistant, who appeared to have clutched it subconsciously in his sleep. All Sasazuka could see of Yako's other hand were the tips of her fingers, lightly wrapped around the hand holding hers.

The police officer observed the scene for a moment, then quietly walked over to the desk nearest the door, and placed the report on top of where someone had apparently driven a knife into the wood. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he whirled around, feeling eyes on his back. But the pair were both still asleep.

Scratching his head and blaming his years in the force for his apparent early-morning paranoia, Sasazuka tiptoed out the door and closed it behind him, failing to notice the pair of bright green eyes silently watching him leave.


End file.
